Prelude
by Cassandra Riley
Summary: It was the full moon the night that James and Lily had died, and Remus was alone.


It was the full moon the night that James and Lily had died, and Remus was alone

It was the full moon the night that James and Lily had died, and Remus was alone.

He didn't resent this. James and Lily couldn't leave the house. Peter's mother was sick again; he had to visit her. Sirius had left earlier in the evening to find Peter; he had been worried the Death Eaters were after him. Remus hadn't minded. Sirius never usually missed a full moon.

But, oh, how ironic. There certainly had been a Death Eater after Peter.

God, it was all so sick and twisted. Sirius had come back that night, but Remus had already transformed. He'd left a note. It had only contained three words, a poor, inadequate prelude of the news that was to follow.

When he'd awoken that following morning, Remus had made his way up from the cellar of the house he and Sirius shared, bruised and battered, but expectant, presuming Sirius would be there, apologetic, waiting for him. The visitor he encountered was not who he'd anticipated; Dumbledore was sitting at the kitchen table, looking unusually grave, even for these times.

"Professor," he greeted weakly.

"Remus," the Headmaster had replied sombrely. "I advise you sit down."

Remus had done so, and had not missed the way Dumbledore's hand shook slightly as he passed a cup of coffee across the table. "Where's Sirius?"

The usually twinkling blue eyes rose to meet Remus' own. "James and Lily are dead, Remus."

Remus gave an involuntary convulsive movement, and the coffee spilled across the table and dripped, slowly, onto the floor. He ignored it. "_What?_"

"Voldemort arrived at Godric's Hollow last night."

The world had turned upside-down. This was a nightmare, the kind where you fell and fell and couldn't wake yourself up.

"_No…_" The word was raw, drawn from the back of his throat. It wasn't possible… it couldn't be true. He shook his head, tried to dredge some semblance of logic, rationality, up from the back of his mind. "Harry… what about Harry?"

"Harry is safe," Dumbledore said soberly. "It seems Voldemort could not kill him. You know of the prophecy, of course, Remus. It was Harry he was after, yet Harry he could not kill. Voldemort has vanished. It is over."

Remus sank his head into his hands. James… Lily… Voldemort gone… and Harry, just a baby – an orphan… He was suddenly overtaken by an uncanny urge to laugh. Dumbledore was wrong, had never been so wrong; it was not over. It was barely beginning.

He stood up abruptly. "Where's Sirius?" he repeated harshly. "Is he safe? What about Peter?"

Dumbledore stood too, slowly; righted the teacup futilely. "Remus, I am so sorry. Sirius was arrested late last night."

Remus gripped the back of his chair tightly. "What the hell for?"

Dumbledore bowed his head sorrowfully. "It appears he betrayed James and Lily. Peter went looking for him last night, after he found this out. Sirius… killed him."

_Sirius_…? It wasn't possible. All his friends… Remus choked back a convulsive noise. "Peter's… dead?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "He fought bravely… remarkably so." He glanced up at Remus, pity etched deep in the lines of his face. "None of us suspected it could have been… well." He held out a scrap of parchment. "This was on the table. It's from Sirius."

Remus took it; scrunched it tightly in his hand. He would not look at it. Not yet.

_Forgive me, Remus._

Remus has forgotten at what point he started referring to Sirius, even in his mind, as 'Black'. 'Black' was never one of his best friends; that Halloween in 1981 he had lost four friends, not three. The world stretched ahead of him in one empty loneliness.

"You understand, Harry cannot stay with you," Dumbledore had said. "He will be safer with his Muggle relatives, away from his fame."

And of course, Dumbledore was right. A werewolf was no fit guardian for a one-year-old. He brushed aside the professor's apologies and regret and put it behind him. Despite the fact that Harry was the sole remnant of his previous life, Remus knew he would not argue. Harry was more important.

For at least a year after Voldemort's downfall, the Wizarding World continued to celebrate. Remus did not. For him, victory had come at the greatest price – he had lost friendship, love, and most of all, his happiness.

Once 'Sirius' – the boy he had loved – and 'Black' – the killer of his friends – had become separate in his mind, the heart-wrenching pain of any recollection of his previous life simply gave way to complete numbness. It was easier to forget, then – easier to block out memories of long hours planning pranks, full moon meetings in the Shrieking Shack, hurried rendezvous with Sirius in the dorms, playing with baby Harry, chatting and helping Lily cook. None of the people he had known then would ever have done what Sirius had.

And _that's_ what it hurt to know.

Because Sirius must have changed during those years after Hogwarts – the ones spent with Remus – to become the person he had always hated.

It was always the worst on full moons. During those times, his emotions were always bubbling nearer the surface, his heart closer to his sleeve. It was near impossible to stop the memories from beginning – and once they had, they weakened him almost as much as the transformation.

It was during those times that Remus realised just how much he had come to rely on Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs during his transformations. It was also during those times that Remus fully appreciated how much he missed them – like losing a piece of himself. Except there was nothing left – not even a phantom limb.

Remus often wondered if he could ever forgive Sirius. It would he so much easier if he could hate him – but he couldn't. He hated _Black_. He hated what he'd done. But he couldn't stop himself loving _Sirius_.

Forgiveness was different altogether, though.

There was a part of Remus that knew he ought to completely despise him. And, indeed, his head hated him; boiled with bitterness and disgust and revulsion at what he'd done, at how he'd torn their lives apart without a second thought. Yet – his heart had other ideas. He could not bring himself to admit that it hadn't all been a mistake or a bad dream, and he clung to this part of himself like a drowning man. Coupled with the part of him that wanted to Avada Sirius himself was the part of Remus that wanted to shake him and kiss him and ask him where it had all gone wrong.

He _couldn't_ stop himself from loving him. And he didn't want to.

Sirius had always said he would be willing to die for Remus. The way James had died for his family; Lily had died for Harry; Peter had died for what was right. Had he ever truly meant it?

Remus hated most of all that he had begun to doubt everything about his past life.

Before, when Voldemort had had power and all their lives had been in constant danger, he had, for the first time ever, been truly happy. Now, the rest of the Wizarding World was rejoicing, and Remus had nothing. His previous life had been a time bomb. A prelude to this one. The one where reality hit you like a brick.

That's what it was, now: _before_, and _after_.

He wasn't even being of any use. At least before, even during the days after they had learned of the prophecy and everyone was under suspicion, he had had work to do; something constructive towards the war effort. It had been dangerous, conversing with the werewolves, but he hadn't cared. He hadn't even cared that the atmosphere between Sirius and himself when he had returned home had been tense, because he had _had_ a home to return to; someone who loved him, waiting for him.

(_Had_ Sirius still loved him? Had he _ever_ loved him?)

Now, he was lost. He needed something to do, something to distract him from the dull ache that had taken up residency in his body. But who would employ a werewolf? This, rather than quelling his grief, simply made him bitter as well. Sirius had taken everything from him, where he had once promised that he would give Remus anything as long as they were together.

_If you're with me, then I don't care_, he had said, their last night at Hogwarts. _I don't care that there's a war on, or that we're about to go into the world with no idea what we're going to do, or what's going to happen. I know that if you're with me, it'll be okay._

Remus had stared at him. _You're crazy._

_I'm in love_, Sirius corrected, and kissed him.


End file.
